


Sleepless in Skyhold (Part II)

by SisterAmell



Series: Sleepless in Skyhold [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, First Time, Missionary Position, POV Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterAmell/pseuds/SisterAmell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basking in the success of his efforts, Cullen teases the edge of her intimate hair. His fingers are so close to her core that he can feel the heat radiating from it. His free hand climbs her bodice and plucks at the lace that is holding her breasts captive. He wants to rip it apart. Instead, prolonging the incredible ache of anticipation, he works slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless in Skyhold (Part II)

 

Like a scene from one of his most guilty fantasies, Petani Lavellan lies before him in his own bed, reaching for him, with unbridled hunger in her eyes. Commander Cullen is undone. He kneels over her submissive form, overcome with wonder and desire. She is so beautiful. So vulnerable. And she wants _him_. She mewls his name in need and Cullen's stomach tightens. His bare torso hovers low, linen-clad thighs shifting in between the folds of Petani's nightgown.

As intense as his arousal is at this moment, Cullen finds himself slowing. He rests his elbows on the mattress either side of the Inquisitor's head as he gazes down at her. He can see the question forming on her lips. Her delicate breasts rise and fall with passion, moonlight shimmering in her waiting eyes.

“Cullen?”

The former Templar exhales deeply. “Inquisitor... _Petani_...” he whispers. He moves a hand to stroke a wayward strand of hair from her cheek. “I did not think this was possible. I dared not hope...”

“I've wanted to come to you for so many nights,” spills her confession, which astounds Cullen anew. “I was afraid you would send me away.”

The very notion makes the Commander gape. “I could never! This is... is... Sweet Andraste, I cannot believe you are actually here.”

She nuzzles at his hand. “I'm here.”

“So you are,” he says with a hint of a smile forming. "It seems too much to ask. And yet... I want to..."

He leans down to claim her lips, sighing warm breaths between languorous mouthfuls, feeling a new wave of heat rush through his loins. Petani hums softly into his kiss and runs her tongue along the rim of his lower lip. The sensation sends a delightful shudder through Cullen's body. He has never known a greater feeling. Marveling at the softness of her skin, he casts his kisses down her porcelain chin and traverses her pulse points all along her throat. He can hear her little sighs as he moves lower, can feel her quaking at his ardent ministrations. She arches upon the bed and presses her bosom more firmly into his path. One of her petite hands gathers a fistful of bedsheets at her side, while the other urges him on by caressing the back of his hair.

Cullen loves the reactions he is garnering. He increases his efforts, hoping to hear his name once more from her lips. Running his hands down her sides while he kisses the swelling mounds that strain against silk, he follows her curves all the way to her slender legs. The fabric of her gown is bunched up at her knees, and Cullen finds the hem easily. Petani is moaning quietly, almost writhing as his open mouth tends to her cleavage. When the Commander slips a hand under her skirt, she squeals.

He chuckles huskily into her milky flesh. “Now, that is a new sound.”

Petani smiles. “I can't help myself,” she pants, slightly embarrassed. “Your touch is...” A calloused hand reaches the juncture of her upper thigh and she throws her head back in pleasure. “Mmm...”

Basking in the success of his efforts, Cullen teases the edge of her intimate hair. His fingers are so close to her core that he can feel the heat radiating from it. His free hand climbs her bodice and plucks at the lace that is holding her breasts captive. He wants to rip it apart. Instead, prolonging the incredible ache of anticipation, he works slowly. Beneath her gown his travelling digits reach a supple, moist opening. As soon as he touches it, Petani's hips jerk involuntarily into his hand. He gazes at her expression in amazement as he tests the intimate lips of her sex. Her eyes are shut, mouth agape, and her head is tossing from side to side. She is so sensitive! He can feel her tremors at his every movement, racking her uncontrollably. His mouth turns dry when he imagines what she will look like at climax, if this is her response to simple caresses. He craves that sight.

Swallowing back against the thick lump in his throat, Cullen delves inside. He tries just one finger at first, careful not to push too hard or too deep. The sensation of her warm walls quivering at his invasion is beyond anything he could imagine. She is slick with her own arousal, coating his finger. He introduces a second digit. Petani tilts her shaking hips to allow him a deeper fit, moaning his name softly. He realises that he has stopped breathing and that his other hand is gripping the collar of her gown tightly as he explores her. He releases a tremulous breath.

“Maker's breath, you're so wet...”

The Inquisitor giggles quietly. “Cullen,” she hums, “you're torturing me... What are you waiting for?”

He has never heard her laugh in such a way before – musical and quaint, like a little girl. Cullen smiles in adoration. “So impatient, Inquisitor?” he jests, curling his fingers inside her and causing her to gasp. “I fully intend to end your torment, my lady, but only _after_ I'm done exploring you...”

Illustrating his point, he dives head-first under her silken skirts and covers her naked flesh with kisses. Petani wriggles and arches in his grasp, laughing breathlessly. Cullen's head spins at the joy of the moment. Her skin is smoother than the hilt of his sword, softer than the luxurious pelt that adorns his mantle. She is so slender, so perfectly crafted. He crawls up her body beneath her gown and comes to the rim of her breasts. Both of his hands shift to touch them, cupping them reverently. His thumbs skim her erect nipples. Her body trembles.

For a frozen moment Cullen simply holds her mounds in gentle palms. The feel of them has lit a fire in his belly that he can barely stand. But then Petani Lavellan makes the next move. She pushes herself up on her elbows, drawing Cullen along with her as she sits upright. He is surrounded by the rustle of fabric, and suddenly the delicate gown is lifted clear of their heads and cast aside. Utterly naked, the Inquisitor gives Cullen a bold smirk. She places both hands on his shoulders and shoves him onto his back, causing him to release his grasp. The Commander hits the mattress with a surprised grunt. Before he can move, the slender, naked elf woman is mounting him and pinning him down. Her bare thighs part over his hips. He stares at her body in amazement as the curve of her womanhood nestles upon his cloaked erection. The wet heat permeates his undergarments and he wilts with pleasure and need. Having her straddling his groin in her nude state is exhilarating. Her perfect breasts are rising and falling with her heavy breaths, her trail of intimate hair stark against the ivory of her skin. For a second he fears he will release his desire right there and then.

Cullen regains his self-control, though he is so light-headed from the diversion of blood away from his head that he can barely think straight. The pressure on his arousal is painfully good. Petani is atop him, baring her every inch to the white moonlight, while she watches his expression with a delighted smile. Her slender fingers fall to his torso and caress him slowly. Cullen's eyes roll back with pleasure. It is as if he has never been touched before this night. The Inquisitor runs her hands down his heaving chest, calling the hairs to stand in their wake, filling Cullen with heat. He flexes beneath her.

“Sweet Andraste...” he breathes as those fingers streak between the valley of his hips, heading south. “Give me strength... I... I...”

With a sudden plunge beneath his waistband, she shatters Cullen's resolve. He unleashes a roar of desire as his manhood is surrounded by warmth, grasped firmly in Petani's hands. His hips rock into her touch. He feels her stroke his length all the way down to the hilt and it is almost unbearable. He stammers her name through his tight throat – his voice sounds weak in his ears.

“So thick...” the Inquisitor hums in awe. She continues to caress him up and down with eager hands. “By the Dread Wolf, Cullen... You're huge...”

A combination of her touch and her breathless compliments fill Cullen with a euphoric sense of delight. He has no doubt that his size only seems unusual to Petani because she is born from a petite people, but to hear her say it pleases him nonetheless. He bites his lower lip as he basks in the pleasure of her tender strokes, feeling his balls tightening and his length throbbing.

“N-now it is your turn...” he stammers, “to torture – ah! – m-me...”

Petani smiles down at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “I promise I'll release you if you promise to take me _right now_.”

By this point Cullen has little choice; if he does not bury himself in her soon, he will surely explode. “You have... my word...”

Countenance flaring with excitement and cheeks rich with colour, the Inquisitor lifts his ready cock out from its trappings. Cullen clasps her around the lower back with one strong arm and rises up into his knees. His free hand drives down between their bodies and spreads wide her dewy petals. Both lovers hold their breath in the seconds before the first breach. Then, carefully – so carefully that his legs are shaking – Cullen eases his manhood into her.

His entire frame shudders and relaxes as her depths accept his cargo. His muscles seem to melt as smooth, wet heat surrounds his cock. He exhales deeply. Petani sags in relief, falling upon his neck and bringing her arms up to hold him. She whimpers softly in his ear and Cullen relishes the sound.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?” he whispers, stroking her trembling back.

Petani rests her lips against his skin and responds: “Cullen, it's wonderful...”

He smiles uncontrollably. The wrenching, desperate need within his loins is drowned out by the joy of simply being this close to the woman he adores. He takes in every sensation, every moment. Petani is clinging to his neck, lacing her tiny fingers in his sweat-soaked curls. He can feel her laboured breaths against his ear. Her welcoming walls are throbbing deliciously around his length.

Slipping one hand down to cup her buttock, the Commander begins kissing her shoulder. He parts his lips upon her, allowing his tongue to suckle on her moonlit flesh, and Petani moans appreciatively. He starts to rock her, slowly moving his hips against her. She picks up the motion and matches it with her own hips. The speed and force begin to climb, their abdomens curling as their lower bodies roll together. Cullen feels the slickness of her rub up and down his length as he drags back and forth. Whether intentionally or automatically, Petani's inner walls squeeze and release with each thrust, and it feels like she is sucking on his cock. He groans deeply.

The pace increases along with the speed of their laboured breaths. Cullen crawls out of the braies that have fallen to his knees and sets Petani down upon her back. His length slips out for a moment, but is swiftly returned to its place between her thighs. The broad-shouldered warrior lies over her, gathering her legs up around his hips as he manoeuvres into position. Lowering his navel against hers, he drives in, as deep as her body will allow him, sending his senses reeling. Petani cries out and latches onto his tight backside with both hands. Her fingers dig into his flesh. She pulls at him desperately for more. He acquiesces, thrusting into her with a throaty growl. The muscles of his thighs flex and strain as he repeats his thrust – and again, and again.

“Here,” the elf girl begs, taking one of his hands. “Touch me here...” She guides his fingers to the hooded nub just above her sex.

Cullen grins roguishly. Hovering over the pink bud without touching it, he leans down to Petani's mouth and whispers: “Say please...”

She pants short, hot breaths against his lips. “Please...” she whimpers desperately.

“Please what?” Cullen strokes the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, reveling in her needy moans.

“Please, Commander!”

His finger skims her tiny organ. A flick of the tip and Petani bucks sharply. Her inner depths quiver all around him. The Commander drives into her, using the momentum of his pelvis to push his hand deeper against her nub. He maintains a presence over the desired area, while his other hand kneads her perky breasts.

“Ah!” she keens. “Yes! Yes!”

He repeats the action and earns further outcries. He is intoxicated by them. He craves more. His rough fingers stroke her little button, teasing the hood, stirring the nerves beneath, testing, toying. As he plays with her most vulnerable spot, his hips continue to pound her at a mighty pace. Petani seems unable to keep her eyes open any more; her face is contorted with agonized pleasure. Beneath Cullen's fingertips her clitoris is becoming saturated, blooming like a flower and releasing fragrant dew. His digits slip between the folds. Sliding uncontrollably, they work the area even more intently. Petani's hips are quaking noticeably with the attention, and her vaginal walls are clutching at his length as if trying to pull him in yet deeper. She is close to her release. Cullen grits his teeth and reins in his own need as he seeks to bring her to the edge. He rubs furiously at her soaked folds, his thighs burning with the merciless onslaught of his thrusts. The hand that has been fondling her breasts now grasps her haunches and pulls one leg up to allow him deeper penetration.

“Cullen! Cullen, oh, Cullen, I'm- Ah!”

Faster, harder, wetter – his cock slides in and out of her while his fingers blur across her splaying hood. She is tightening, ready to burst, and has given up on any shred of self-control. Cullen drives her tirelessly to her breaking point.

He feels heat surround his length. Her sweat-streaked body turns rigid. With her mouth gaping wide, Petani convulses, and her depths unleash a rapid sequence of tremors all around Cullen's thick manhood. He bellows unbridled into the night as his lover milks him into a powerful release. His seed explodes inside her, flooding them both with a new warmth. The lovers shudder and moan through their shared climax, clutching at one another with rigid fingers and gasping breaths.

Cool air creeps over Cullen's wet body as he regains his senses. He feels utterly spent and weak in a way that he has never known before. He looks down at the elven goddess beneath him and releases a deep, contented sigh. Her lashes are fluttering, as if she is basking in the aftershocks of her orgasm, and her hands are still gripping him. Cullen smiles and leans into her, rolling his hips slowly to ease her past the climax while prolonging the pleasure. Petani whimpers and buries her face in his shoulder. Her muscles quiver several more times, until eventually she goes still.

Her head falls back onto the pillow. She looks like she is glowing as she lies there in the gaze of the silver moon, as though she is not even made of flesh and blood. Cullen is amazed by the breathtaking sight. He lowers his face to her and bestows a deep, thankful kiss upon her lips.

“That was... really nice,” he says weakly.

Petani laughs and pulls him into a tender embrace. “It was more than nice,” she murmurs in to his neck.

“I fear I'll wake up and find that it was just a dream.”

“Then, tomorrow I'll remind you how real it was,” whispers the Inquisitor. She kisses the edge of his mouth. “For now, though, I'd best return to my chambers. If anyone finds me here in the morning...”

“Damn them all,” Cullen snorts, curling up with her protectively. “The Maker Himself could not pry me from you tonight.”

She settles into his arms, stroking his broad hands with a smile on her lips. Cullen feels her toes curl around his. He nestles his cheek against her soft, damp hair and inhales deeply. Never in his life has he felt so happy – so _safe_. When sleep eventually takes him, it is not the same sleep that has tormented him for so many years. The nightmares have fled. The scars do not ache.

> _He feels like quiet. Stronger when you hold him..._

 


End file.
